


Sow Good Seed

by labellelunaclaire



Series: AUgust 2020 [11]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: AU-gust 2020, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25909666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labellelunaclaire/pseuds/labellelunaclaire
Summary: Day 11 — Farm/RanchEnjolras wants to start a “resistance” garden. Grantaire has a green thumb.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: AUgust 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860763
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58
Collections: AUgust 2020





	Sow Good Seed

**Author's Note:**

> I’m stretching the definition of “farm” so thin that I could make filo dough worthy of a Paul Hollywood handshake with it.

“I need your help with something.”

Grantaire was packing up his sketchbook after a meeting, preparing for a long night of watching netflix while finishing the painting he had due for critique the next day

“I already told you, if you need posters designed, ask a ComDes major,” he told Enjolras, who had practically materialized out of nowhere as soon as the meeting ended. “Just because I can paint doesn’t mean I can make a good poster.”

“No, it’s not that…” He trailed off, looking nervous.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Grantaire said, zipping up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. “What do you need help with, Enjolras?”

Enjolras sighed. “I’m trying to start a vegetable garden,” he admitted. “A ‘resistance garden’. I want to grow my own food and start being more self sustainable.”

“A worthy cause,” Grantaire said with a nod. “Still not sure how this involves me.”

“I just…” Enjolras groaned, seeming frustrated and embarrassed. “It’s not working out so well, okay?”

“Something the almighty Enjolras isn’t good at immediately?” Grantaire teased. “Stop the presses immediately, this is big!”

“Grantaire, please,” he begged in a very not-Enjolras-like way. “I really want to make this happen and it’s just… not working. I wanted to see if you could help me.”

“I’m not the only Ami who knows shit about plants,” Grantaire pointed out. “Jehan would probably be a better option.”

“Jehan says they can’t because they’ve got a huge project due in a few weeks and it’s taking up all their time.”

Grantaire looked him up and down. He did really seem like he didn’t know what to do. It was kind of fucking adorable, actually.

“Fine,” Grantaire said with a sigh. “I’ll help you.”

Enjolras’s eyes lit up. “Really? You will?”

“Yeah, I’ll help you. But there’d better be a six pack of beer in it for me.”

* * *

They worked out the details via text, and Grantaire arrived at Enjolras’s address at 10am on Saturday morning, dressed in clothes he didn’t mind getting dirty. With any luck, Enjolras just needed to be shown some pruning techniques or maybe how to judge how much water to give each plant and he’d be home by lunch.

The house that Enjolras lived in was small, but well cared for. It had clearly been renovated much more recently than the other houses on the street, which were generally in various stages of disrepair.

“Nice place,” Grantaire said when Enjolras opened the front door. 

“Thanks,” Enjolras responded, stepping aside.

“Damn, wood floors, too?” he added when he walked inside. “How much do you pay a month to live here?”

Enjolras grimaced. “I don’t,” he admitted ruefully. “My parents bought it for me when I started college.”

“Shit, I knew you were well off,” Grantaire said. “But I didn’t realize you were advocating for cannibalism when you said _‘eat the rich.’”_

“I didn’t want them to buy me a house. I wanted to live in an apartment,” Enjolras said in an exasperated tone. “But they felt like renting was just throwing money away, and that buying a house for me to use and then renting it out when I finish college was a smarter investment. Anyways, do you want to see the garden or not?”

“Lead the way,” Grantaire said with a flourish.

Enjolras led him through the living room to the kitchen and the back door.

“You’re not allowed to laugh at me,” Enjolras warned before opening the door.

“I make no such promises.”

_“Grantaire.”_

_“Enjolras.”_

Enjolras groaned and opened the door.

Holy shit, it was worse than he’d thought.

The backyard was large and with a tall wooden privacy fence. There was a nice patio set around a fire pit and a bench swing hanging from the roof of the patio. It would have been a nice back yard.

Except that someone had dug up a large portion of the ground, revealing the light brown dirt that was still in large clumps in some places. And the few plants that he could see in the wreckage were withered and brown.

“They should lock you up for plant murder,” Grantaire told him, shocked at what he was seeing.

“I told you I needed help!”

“Okay, but I didn’t realize we were starting basically from scratch!”

“Is it really that bad?” Enjolras asked, chewing on his bottom lip. “I mean, I know it’s not ideal, but how hard can it be to fix?”

Grantaire walked around in the so-called garden, examining what little was there.

“Did you propagate your seeds inside first?” he asked, looking at the empty ground that had been cleared.

“Um, no,” Enjolras said. “I just… stuck them in the ground and watered them.”

“Did you add anything to your soil? Compost or perlite or anything?”

“No…”

“Enjolras, do you even know what planting zone you’re in?”

“Uhh…”

Grantaire sighed. “Okay, let’s go.”

Enjolras’s eyebrows pulled together. “Go where?” he asked.

“The garden center,” Grantaire said. “We’re going to need supplies.”

* * *

“Do you have a budget for this, or do I have free reign to get whatever?” Grantaire asked, grabbing a flatbed cart and walking into the garden center.

“Just don’t go overboard,” Enjolras said, eyes darting over all of the various potted plants. “And remember that my trunk is small.”

“Got it. Must be nice to have money.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Enjolras responded irritably. “We don’t need to keep talking about that. Let’s just get what we need and get back.”

Grantaire made a beeline for the potting soils and composts, explaining the differences to Enjolras and what they were good for. He loaded the cart with various types and continued on to tools, grabbing shovels and trowels and rakes as well as stakes and mesh and trellises for the beds themselves. Then he added a couple of pots for the few pitiful plants that were still clinging to life.

“What about the plants?” Enjolras asked as they headed back to the front of the center where the checkout lanes were. “Shouldn’t we get some plants or seeds?”

“That comes later,” Grantaire explained as he set the smaller items on the counter for the cashier to scan. “Right now we need to focus on getting the garden actually prepped. No point in getting plants right now.”

Enjolras nodded as the cashier walked around the counter and scanned all of the bags of soil and compost.

“I hate to break it to you, Apollo, but you’re going to have to get your hands pretty dirty for the next couple of weekends,” Grantaire told him with a smile.

* * *

It took the rest of the day to transplant the struggling survivors into pots and get the ground properly tilled. Grantaire explained the importance of each step they were taking, from breaking up the soil to adding in supplementary soil and compost.

Sometime in the afternoon, Enjolras ordered a pizza and they went inside to eat and cool off. Grantaire’s shirt was damp with sweat and covered in dirt. Enjolras looked much the same, but he somehow managed to make it _work_ for him, the bastard.

“Are you free tomorrow to keep working, or are we postponing until next weekend?” Grantaire asked while they ate.

“I’m not sure I can take another day like this tomorrow,” Enjolras admitted. “I think I’m already going to be so sore I can’t move.”

“What a delicate flower you are, Apollo,” Grantaire joked. “Well then, I guess we’ll finish up what we can today and reconvene next Saturday.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Enjolras agreed.

* * *

The next Saturday, Grantaire again showed up at Enjolras’s house early, showing himself through to the back yard as soon as the door was opened for him.

He was pleased to see that the poor plants that had been hanging on by a thread were starting to look better in their new pots. They were still pretty pathetic, but less brown and more yellowish green as they got the nutrients they needed from the potting soil.

“Looks like we’re starting to turn that black thumb green after all, Apollo,” he said as he inspected the plants. “Let’s head back to the garden center and get started with the fun part.”

* * *

At the garden center, Grantaire explained the information tags on each of the plants and how to decode what it all meant. He pointed out which zone they were in and which plants needed full sun versus partial sun and which ones probably needed to stay inside until later in the season.

“How do you know all of this?” Enjolras asked, looking like his head might explode with all of the new information it was trying to process.

“I grew up on a farm,” Grantaire said. “Or, well, ‘farm’ might be stretching it a little far. It was seven acres of land that my grandmother had planted some vegetable and ornamental gardens on and kept chickens and ducks and goats and pigs because she liked them. I used to help her put the animals in their pens for the night so the predators wouldn’t get them.”

Enjolras examined all of the plants they had loaded up on their cart. “Sounds like it was fun.”

Grantaire laughed. “Most of the time, yeah.”

They headed to the checkout, where the same cashier as the week before rung them up.

“Got the garden all set up?” she asked as she scanned all of the plants.

“Yup,” Grantaire said easily. He pointed to Enjolras with his thumb. “This one looked like a wilted flower by the time we were done, but we managed it.”

A blush rose high on Enjolras’s face. “Grantaire!” he said with embarrassment.

The cashier laughed and kept scanning. “Well, good luck on the planting! Sounds like you have it under control!”

* * *

The rest of the day wasn’t nearly as laborious as the week before had been.

Grantaire laid out all of the plants they had gotten in roughly the place they would be planted. He explained his thought process about which plants went where and how much space should be between them. When it came time to actually plant them, he demonstrated how to gently free the roots so they weren’t so compact and how to tie plants that needed it to a support stake.

Enjolras watched his every move carefully, trying to take in every drop of information.

“You know, you still have a good amount of space back here,” Grantaire said as they relaxed inside Enjolras’s kitchen eating Thai take out. “We could probably make another bed, or even plant some fruit trees.”

Enjolras looked at him. “You’d really help me do that?”

Grantaire shrugged as he took another bite of his tom ka gai. “Why not? I clearly don’t have anything better to do with my Saturdays.”

Enjolras smiled at him. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

They fell into a strange cycle.

On Wednesdays, they still argued and went toe to toe on every issue brought up at the Amis meetings. Sometimes, they even ended up arguing the same point but for different reasons.

But when the meeting was over, Enjolras would go sit at Grantaire’s table and discuss any thoughts he’d had about the garden, ideas he’d seen online, and plan out what they should do that Saturday.

Sometimes, they didn’t talk about gardening at all. They just had friendly discussions, like friends do.

It was very strange for Grantaire, who had never felt as though he was truly counted among Enjolras’s friends, despite literally seeing each other at least once a week for the past three years. But now, it seemed as though that had changed. Where before, Enjolras had merely tolerated him, now he actively sought out his company. He even seemed to listen more to what Grantaire had to say, and even admitted a couple of times when he felt that his position might not have been as strong as Grantaire’s was.

Very strange, indeed.

“What have you done to the real Enjolras?” Courfeyrac joked one evening as they were leaving the Musain. “I’ve never heard him admit when he was wrong.”

“We’ve just been working on his garden,” Grantaire said, his face feeling hot.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Courfeyrac said, entirely unconvinced.

Grantaire wasn’t entirely convinced, either, honestly.

* * *

Several Saturdays into their new, strange arrangement, after they’d weeded and pruned and fertilized the garden beds, they were once more relaxing in the air conditioned haven of Enjolras’s house, hot and sweaty and covered in dirt and drinking lemonade, when Enjolras turned to him.

“There’s a documentary playing in that theater on the Square tonight,” he said nonchalantly. “Do you want to go see it?”

Grantaire’s heart felt like it had stopped.

“Uh, I’m pretty broke right now,” he told him.

“I can pay for you,” Enjolras responded easily. “It’s not a big deal.”

Grantaire tried to think of a reason why he couldn’t, but all he found was reason why he _definitely, absolutely should._

“Okay,” he said at last. “Do you mind if I take a shower first? I doubt anyone would want to be near me with how I look and smell right now.”

Enjolras smiled. “Sure. You can borrow a clean shirt of mine if you want.”

Grantaire just nodded numbly and went to the bathroom to shower, trying not to think about how he was naked in Enjolras’s house, with Enjolras in the other room.

If it felt like his heart had stopped before, it _definitely_ felt like he needed a defibrillator now.

* * *

“I don’t really feel like ordering anything tonight,” Enjolras said another Saturday. “Do you want to go and get something?”

“Uh, sure?” Grantaire responded, though he was anything but. “What were you thinking?”

“There’s an Ethiopian place a town over. How’s that sound?”

* * *

Grantaire took to bringing a change of clothes with him on Saturdays, knowing that there was a good chance that he and Enjolras would go and do something together after working on the garden all day.

It became a ritual. Garden, shower, throw his clothes in the wash, go out. He hated how he got used to his hair smelling like Enjolras’s cruelty, paraben, silicone, sulfate free shampoo and his clothes smelling like his laundry soap. He felt like a creep, the way he’d get home and smell his freshly washed and dried shirt and think about the one that Enjolras had let him borrow that one time, and how hard it had been to part with.

He’d already harbored a major crush on Enjolras before this whole garden thing. It had been pretty obvious to all of his friends, even though he always laughed it off when someone would bring it up.

But _now…_

Well, shit. If what he’d had before was a crush, he didn’t even have words for what he felt _now._

* * *

The garden was doing amazingly.

Not only did it look great (they had added some stone paths between the beds, and started work on a raised bed near the patio for herbs) but some of the plants were starting to fruit, which made Enjolras _very_ excited.

“Why don’t we go back to the garden center and pick out a couple of fruit trees for over there?” Grantaire asked, gesturing to an area of the garden they hadn’t touched yet.

Enjolras agreed and they made their nearly-weekly pilgrimage to the garden center.

At this point, the cashier knew them pretty well and smiled and waved when they walked in.

“Finish that raised bed yet?” she asked as they grabbed their cart.

“Not yet,” Grantaire told her. “We’re finishing it today, but we also wanted to get a couple of fruit trees to plant in an open space in the yard.”

“Ooh, we have some nice loquat trees over in the corner,” she said, pointing in the direction of the fruit trees.

“Thanks! We’ll take a look.”

They settled on two loquat trees and two plum trees after a little mini lesson on which trees would self-pollinate and which required two trees to produce fruit.

“You take these to the front,” Enjolras said when they’d loaded up the trees. “I just want to look at the herbs again real quick.”

“We already have plenty of herbs at the house,” Grantaire reminded him.

“I know, I just want to see if they have anything new.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes and headed to the checkout.

“It’s so awesome that you two spend every weekend gardening together,” the cashier said as she scanned the trees. “It’s always nice to see couples sharing a hobby.”

There went Grantaire’s heart again.

“Oh, uh, actually, we’re, uh, not…” he stammered.

The girl’s eyes went wide. “Oh!” she said quickly. “I’m sorry! I just assumed, since you’re always together.”

“It’s alright,” Grantaire assured her. “No, uh, harm done.”

“Look, lemon balm!” Enjolras said, appearing at Grantaire’s side holding a small plant.

Grantaire looked at him. “Do you even know what lemon balm _is?”_

“The tag says it’s good for tea,” he said, pointing to the little plastic label.

“You drink coffee,” Grantaire pointed out.

Enjolras just shrugged and set the little plant on the counter to be scanned.

Grantaire ignored the way the cashier tried to hide her smile.

* * *

“Hey,” Enjolras said after a meeting one week. “I have something I have to do this Saturday morning.”

“Okay,” Grantaire responded as he packed up his stuff. “We can continue next weekend if you want.”

“You can still come over in the evening,” Enjolras said quickly. “I mean… unless you’d rather not…”

“No,” Grantaire said just as quickly. His heart was doing that thing again. The thing where it stopped working properly. “I can still come over.”

Enjolras looked uncharacteristically nervous. “Cool. Yeah. Alright. I’ll… I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“See you Saturday.”

Enjolras awkwardly touched Grantaire’s shoulder and then rushed off to talk to Courfeyrac, who was looking especially smug that evening.

* * *

Grantaire arrived at Enjolras’s house on Saturday evening, having spent the entire day dithering around his apartment, wondering what he ever did with his Saturdays before helping Enjolras with the garden.

“Hey,” Enjolras said excitedly when he opened the door, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. “Come on in.”

Grantaire followed him inside and was immediately met with some seriously amazing smells.

“Already ordered dinner?” Grantaire asked as they walked through the living room.

“Not quite,” Enjolras said. “You’ll see.”

And that’s when Grantaire saw the dining table, which was set with plates and cutlery and napkins and a vase of flowers in the center.

“What’s all this?” he asked, confused.

“I wanted to say thank you for all the help you’ve given me,” Enjolras told him. “So I woke up early this morning and went to the farmer’s market and I’ve been cooking all day. Using some of the vegetables from the garden.”

Grantaire turned to face Enjolras, who had an expression on his face that Grantaire now recognized as _“giddy”._

“You’re cooking for me?” It felt like there was a short circuit somewhere in his brain and he simply couldn’t comprehend what it was that was going on.

“Yeah,” Enjolras said, nervousness coloring his tone. “Is that… that’s alright, right?”

Grantaire laughed. “Fuck, Enjolras. Of course it is!”

“Good, good. Like I said… I just… I wanted to say thank you. You’ve done so much. Given up every Saturday for the past two months.”

“Oh yeah, because spending every Saturday with you was so terrible,” Grantaire joked.

Enjolras took a deep breath. “Grantaire,” he said slowly. “I’ve… I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you.”

Suddenly Grantaire was the nervous one. “I mean, I have, too,” he told him cautiously. “Wouldn’t have kept coming back if I didn’t.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said, suddenly very serious. “I… I like you. A lot. And I… I hope that maybe… you feel the same way. About me.”

Damned lungs. They were clearly in cahoots with his heart, because neither seemed to be doing their jobs at the moment.

“I…” Grantaire started, and then cleared his throat, which suddenly felt very thick. “I mean… _fuck,_ Enjolras! I’ve practically been in love with you since freshman year!”

“What?”

Grantaire laughed. “Holy shit, I didn’t really do a great job of hiding it! Pretty much everyone else saw it a long time ago!”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “So _that’s_ why Courfeyrac laughed at me when I told him how I felt.”

In a moment of uncharacteristic bravery, Grantaire reached out and grabbed Enjolras’s hand. “I always thought you just tolerated me. But then we started working on the garden. And… I loved it. I loved spending time with you. And you seemed to like it, too.”

“Grantaire, do you want… would you want to stay the night tonight?”

Somehow, Grantaire was able to speak, even though his heart had lodged itself somewhere up in his throat. “I’d love that,” he said.

And then Enjolras surged forward and kissed him, and time seemed to stand still.

“I should have asked first,” Enjolras said when he pulled away, looking a little guilty. “I’m sor—”

Grantaire cut him off with a kiss.

“Please don’t,” he begged. “Don’t apologize. You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined doing that.”

Enjolras smiled at him.

“Grab a plate!” he said excitedly. “Let’s eat before it gets cold!”

* * *

Grantaire barely stepped foot in his own apartment the next week.

They arrived at the meeting on Wednesday holding hands before taking their usual seats and ignoring the wide eyes of all of their friends.

And on Saturday, they woke up together in Enjolras’s bed and started working on the garden until they needed to run to the garden center for more supplies.

Grantaire smiled widely at their cashier when they walked in holding hands, and she gave him an excited thumbs up in return.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a reference to the Code of Dinotopia, where the first letter of each code spells out the phrase “sow good seed”. I actually have the second code (“one raindrop raises the sea”) tattooed on my ribs.
> 
> The idea for this fic 100% belongs to my fiancée. I was debating on using a Joker for this prompt until she said the words “communist farmer Enjolras”, and while the fic went in a different direction than that prompt, it still gave me enough inspiration to love forward. Look, Grantaire’s story about living on a farm? That is 100% my story growing up. And this farm girl doesn’t write about farms.


End file.
